Terraria - Unity Under Blood
by V1ralGam3r
Summary: It all started with the Hero's demise. Now, Crimson reigns supreme in the world, and no single creature can put the evil land within its place. Only if the surviving NPCs and the multitude of bosses can unite will the world of Terraria stand a chance!
1. Prologue - What Started it All

_Let's start this story with a few disclaimers - I do not own Terraria, or anything referenced within. The only thing I own is my original character, Artorias, and the actual story that you'll be reading. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this!_

 **Prologue**

* * *

Within the many lands of Terraria, a single man had founded a grand castle in hostile lands, like many before. His name was Artorias, a knight that had been rejected for his unusual ailment: a piece of heart statue had been stuck inside his torso, between the two lungs. While it regenerated his health at an inhuman rate, his breath was forever stunted.

Artorias had been quite the adventurer, regardless: he'd seen the marbled underground gardens, gone against sandstorms of incredible ferocity, even gazed into Hell itself. The man took pride in his abilities, and kept his people safe. This pride, however, was his downfall.

Nobody could ever be ready for the Crimson to take them.

Adorned with a suit of faded cobalt, its magical power lost to the ages, he set out. A fireball sentry was strapped to his back, awaiting activation, and a bladed 'yoyo' as large as his head stayed close at hand. He'd said his goodbyes - he now answered to the call of adventure.

 **~{** **θ** **}~**

The first thing to reach him was the scent - iron and death permeated the air. With it came a drive to slay anything within - all knew the stories of corrupted land consuming entire continents. The land ahead was dominated by an almost tumor-like opening, and Artorias knew where his path lay.

With each horror he was forced to slay, Artorias grew more enraged. The Crimsoned land was seeping into his mind, further brutalizing his strikes with every foe felled. His rage was for naught, though, as a war cry full of wrath punctured his lung on the very statue that kept him going for so long.

The ground consumed him as he fell. Not a soul would see or hear of him for months.

 **~{** **θ** **}~**

Eventually, the bloodied biome took over. It was a small island, regardless of any adventures to be had, and nothing could withstand the tainted land forever.

The inconcievable happened soon after - souls had been released from somewhere within the vast universe of Terraria. Long deceased rose with true vengeance, spirits claimed each other in wrath. Even the Bosses of Old feared what would become of this. Among the dread knights and wraiths, the Crimson itself spawned its own champion to hold its place.

He was clad in fleshy armor, made violet from its previously indominable color stewing within blood. A warped staff was at his back, shifting itself into an ichor-spewing sentry at command. A shield, adorned with the Mark of Cthulhu, welded itself to a large buzzsaw of bone as large as the champion's head.

And so came the rise of Sir Artorias, self-proclaimed Harbinger of the End.


	2. Chapter 1 - Skeletal Sanctuary

**Chapter 1 - Skeletal Sanctuary**

* * *

Skeletron wasn't a social creature - this was a universally accepted fact. Anyone who'd try to disprove it would meet the nigh-invulnrable sentry of his sanctum. All manner of skeletal beings, himself included, made the Dungeon their home - though the large majority of them spawned from Skeletron's vast amount of magic. As it was, the sole being within that truly had life was the old man that was routinely used as a vessel to the being that presided over the expansive lair, so to say that he was displeased with the squatters currently lounging on his doorstep was a major understatement.

The old man - a mantle often taken in these situations - hobbled up towards the door. It was a tiresome routine at this point; Limp and loiter around the outer area, beg the unfortunate soul outside for "freedom from his curse", and promptly slaughter the fool that would accept. With recent events, however, he'd be excused for passing over a step or two - after all, the creatures that now dominated the world only understood the constant rage that clouded their minds. There was no need to guise his potential, and thus a magical, flaming skull was already primed to fire at the first thing he saw.

No, he'd not waste his time on these mindless abominations. Skeletron shoved the door open, a scowl screaming of pure hatred deeply etched into his vessel's face, shifting into a more subdued form of disdain as said squatter was revealed to be of a green coloration in favor of the dominating red. His nose twitched in disgust, nonetheless, and he grumbled a bit as if to warm his voice - eager and able to end her presence or no, he'd never miss a chance to insult someone before their demise.

"Dryad," he began in a mocking sneer, "If you're here to ask my leave again, I'd be glad to say you're a bit late to the call." He blasted the ground with a flaming skull, watching as the leftover ash dissolved into a chalky, bloody residue as if to make his point. "You'd be better off following the lead of everyone else and pissing right off. There's nothing here, save for my domain and Hell itself."

His claim rang true: Only the Crimson and the Dungeon could be found on the island they inhabited - there was a miniscule patch of Hallow, of course, though Skeletron preferred to deny the saccharine shell's existance altogether. Nothing remained of the Jungle; Plantera - the sweet little bulb it was - wilted in the iron-laden ground before it could mature, and the few Queen Bees that resided there were exterminated. Cthulhu's Eye doubtlessly pledged itself to its master's land, with the Brain it shared a former body with. The Duke of Fishron refused to enter the reddened seas that bordered the landmass, and the few slimes that dared live here were disowned by their King, who saw the evil that corrupted his kin as it truly was.

Before the Dryad could spit out an equally venemous retort, and definitely before Skeletron could respond with a swift death, the sound of a throat being cleared rang out. Behind the woman of nature stood an entirely average man - something made rare given the circumstances, and made the powerful being before him pause and ponder how the small person could even exist in the fleshy landscape. "Beg pardon, but we're not entirely here for you," he muttered, "Like you said, not much is left here for us. We.. well, I was hoping we could stay here?"

"Don't mind him," interjected the Dryad, "he's just a bit sick from the world's current evil. We really don't need your kind of help." This rose an eyebrow from Skeletron, seeing her immediately check her back as the man - a Guide, presumably - begged mercy with his eyes. Said eyebrow rose slightly further as he now felt what the woman was sensing. The Dungeon's master let out a dark laugh at that - sources of entertainment were few and far between, anymore, and this was a chance in millions!

"Well, here's an offer I'm sure you can't refuse," he proclaimed as the sounds of the Crimson's minions grew loud enough to hear, "Shoo away our new guests for me, and maybe I'd find a nice broom closet for you two to share!" And so, with the largest, cruelest grin he could afford to give out, Skeletron slammed the door closed as a small troop of face monsters, herplings, and crimeras closed in on the two survivors.


	3. Chapter 2 - Earning their Keep

**Chapter 2 - Earning their Keep  
**

* * *

The dryad, Lunette, was quick to action, having been accustomed to fighting long before. With a practiced flick of her wrist, a length of thorns materialized - reddened by the Crimson, though compliant to her will nonetheless. The makeshift whip lashed out towards a herpling that decided to do the same, clinging into its fleshy hide, and with a simple twirl the beast was rocketed into its own kin.

A trio of face monsters that hadn't been struck by their comrade broke ahead, bloodied drool glazing their mouths as they ambled towards the duo. The middle was promptly lashed across the face, its triplet to the left having more thorns stick into it as the rightmost one took a flaming arrow to the chest - the guide, Asher, had taken up his own bow and started launching volleys into the small army. A broodling crimera was shot down just as one of the face monsters tore into the offending whips below, landing into the angered beast and buying Lunette precious seconds as her weapon lay in pieces.

Said seconds were spent channeling her energy into an enchantment passed between Dryads - Nature's Blessing encased the embassador of nature and her all-knowing companion, shielding them in a flurry of leaves that ripped into the surrounding creatures. With the shield in place, yet another spell was set to charging while Asher took to using his heavy tungsten bow - assisted by the magical cutters - as a blunt weapon against the horde.

The enchanted leaves couldn't last long, however, and the moment they had dissolved, a crimslime took the opportunity to latch onto the bow. Asher dropped the bow without much of a struggle, and another face monster charged ahead, losing some blood-matted skin as it trampled its ally of opportunity. Not to be halted by its loss, however, the beast rammed into the unprepared guide, sinking claws into his shoulders and pinning him to a nearby column.

Asher shouted in a mix of pain and fear, using a free arm to ward away the face monster's gaping maw. Its teeth were coated in unknown, fleshy material, and as they grew ever closer Asher weakly kicked at his attacker in vain. It was then that Lunette's magic was released in a soul-rending burst - Gaia's Bane grasped at the horde, draining them of precious life. A light kick was now enough to fend off the enraged monster, and an arrow was shoved into its skull.

Lunette summoned her thorned whips once more, now shredding through her foes' flesh as if it were paper. Some of the smarter crimeras screeched in alarm to the others, warning them to flee before being torn from the sky. The fight was very well over at this point - in minutes, none remained to challenge the duo.

"I think that's all." Lunette stated bluntly as her weapons and magics were let go. She looked around for anything else, seemingly victorious in her posture - and then her eyes rolled upwards and her body slumped to the ground in exhaustion. Asher staggered over to her, grabbing under her arms and just barely lifting her up onto his back as he looked towards the dungeon's front door.

"Go on and rest, then," He said to the unconscious dryad while slowly dragging her - and himself - to the inner sanctum. His shoulder throbbed in pain, eyes sunken with fatigue and shock while blatantly showing his worry.

"I just hope that our host is feeling generous given the situation we're in..."

 **~{0}~  
**

Skeletron sat his host within a small lounge hallway within his sprawling fortress, reading one of the many tomes kept nearby and wondering why the mortals hadn't died yet. He could sense them straggling around above him, being so immersed in his own residual magic that seeped deep through the ancient bricks - hell, he was almost impressed with the two, not that he'd admit it. Either ways, he decided to call off his personal guard in a half-hearted attempt not to smear their internals across the entry.

So he sat his host down and read, taking his sweet time to address the two impromptu guests - whenever they could manage to drag themselves over, of course. It took some time, but he'd finished a whole chapter and dog-eared the light novel for another time. There was almost a gleam of sadistic glee when he saw the _self-righteous dryad bitch_ being carted in on the guide's back - some easy barbs to launch at her later whenever she could be bothered to drag herself into awareness.

"What took you so long?" Skeletron sneered at the guide. He'd have gladly been more vicious in his taunting, but there was a small bit of respect to be had for the many guides' shared search for knowledge. "I see your _pet_ ran herself tired - maybe you aught to have her put down? It'd help conserve resources in such _dire times_."

"I'm, ah, sure you have wisdom in your words," Asher began at length, "but I assure you I need her alive - just as much as we need you and your sanctuary." Lunette was dumped onto a nearby couch, temporarily forgotten in favor of bandaging his still wounded shoulder. Skeletron watched intently, _likely an attempt to unsettle_ , and in an attempt to break the silence, Asher continued, "So, did we do well enough in our cleanup duty?"

"Well if you insist on cleaning," the dungeon keeper retorted, "You can powder the front yard later. I'd much prefer not to reek of gore every time I step foot outside." The guide nodded to this, and satisfied with his brief assertion of leadership, Skeletron decided to grace the duo with a room to rest in for their _hopefully brief_ stay.

And it was, indeed, little more than a glorified closet - Skeletron was a being of his word, after all.


	4. Chapter 3 - Breathing Room

**Chapter 3 - Breathing Room, Breath of Doom**

* * *

Asher wasn't expecting much when he finally regained enough sense to take in the complex - it was a dungeon, after all, and a rather aged one at that - though to witness its currently dilapidated state was a depressing sight. Several corridors would collapse into each other, sometimes crumbling as far down as to make what would surely be a fully sized Wyvern roost were it on the surface. Many bricks were discolored from the mixture of dust and moisture that seemed to dominate the entire area, with large sections cracked and crumpled from the fruitless efforts of some would-be hero of the past - small tendrils of bloodmoss would try to seep into the dungeon from these, though magic flames would light the invasive corruption. Even the furniture was in tatters, though there was the odd lounge or shelf that Skeletron seemed to favor for reasons unknown.

Figuring that the lifespan of his ally and himself was heavily bolstered by the dungeon lord's opinion of the duo, Asher decided to use some of the varying supplies they shared to make living within the dungeon much more bearable. First order was to restore the staircases nearby with some wooden platforms - the former shadewood having been revived into solid elm planks with liberal use of purification powder. Said wood was also used to block off several of the upper ruined columns to make sure neither party would spear themselves on the sharpened rubble below. A large amount of the furniture was torn apart to salvage material bits, the guide using his natural knowledge of crafts to rebuild it with an underused bone welder that was hidden within a gilded chest.

As for the bloodmoss, he could only cover his nose from the stench of death and hope that Skeletron's magic would keep it at bay.

 **~{** **θ** **}~**

When it was all said and done, only the higher floors were refurbished in even the slightest manner. Skeletron at least seemed to approve as he lounged in a newly made sofa, having violently chucked a book at Asher's feet, _a gift in disguise_ that the now-jumpier man decided to read through. _"No Days off in Terraria"_ , as it was titled, happened to be a rather pleasant read - even though the novel hadn't been finished quite yet, though dried red at the corner of the page suggested a similar situation to Asher's own. Either way, he stowed it away in one of the shelves and went to check on Lunette.

She was still passed out - draining mana reserves too fast would do that, even to masters of the magical arts. The leaves that adorned her form were mostly deep scarlet from the Crimson's hold over the world, with the occasional purple leaves peeking through as the Hallow itself could only barely manage. A standing mystery, however, was the last bit of greenery consisting of a small seedling that she kept near her neck - the only trace of hope that gave the duo reason to stay on the otherwise doomed island.

With his _friend's_ safety ensured, Asher went aboveground with a large bag of purity powder in tow. The entrance of the dungeon was easily walled off with uncorruptible dynasty wood, the beams going relatively far underground - a little bit of decorative splurging was evident in the blue shingles that topped the higher scaffolds, which Asher had bought in secret long ago. With that bit of security, the guide went about tilling the front area free of the bloody moss that dominated the land, mixing in a heavy dose of powder to the newly turned soil to keep it strong. In the center of the dirt patch, a single grass seedling was planted, ensuring a small sanctuary of purity by tomorrow's light.

As he traveled back down into the dungeon, however, the guide had began to hear voices. One held the distinct bitterness that could only belong to the centuries-old Skeletron, though the other was an unknown. Asher decided to stand behind a corner, making a token effort to stay hidden - he figured that the dungeon keeper already knew of his presence, and that he'd swiftly be removed anyways had it been an unwanted one.

"With all due respect, Milord..." the unknown voice began - or continued, Asher supposed - "We were only meant to last so long! Our joints ache from the pressure of keeping together; half of us can barely stand, yet continue to drag themselves along the halls!"

"You're meant to last as long as I damn well want you to." Skeletron irritably countered, "the lot of you feed off of my power enough as it is, and with all this _revolting_ taint surrounding my sanctum, I won't be letting anything out of line."

Heavy boots shuffled, as if indecisive in its wearer's response, before the mysterious voice rang with a subdued disappointment. "The wrathful bones won't be happy to hear about that, Milord. I just wish I needn't be the messenger..." _A chance at guilt, then, though this new party couldn't have chosen a worse target._

"Oh, don't worry, paladin," the dungeon lord drawled with an unsurprising hint of sadistic glee, "you're not going to be the poor little messenger - You'll just be the message!"

The "paladin", as Skeletron named it, didn't even get the chance to scream before it was set alight with wicked indigo flames. A series of loud clangs sounded down the hall as the construct fell apart under its assailant's wrath, Skeletron himself letting out a small noise of relief as the concentrated magical aura returned to his mana pool.

Asher waited until the unnatural flames stopped crackling before braving the journey past a disgruntled dungeon master towards his and Lunette's shared room, Skeletron barely acknowledging the guide's witnessing of his own creation's brutal murder.

* * *

 _Just a quick author's note down here thanking you all for following the story! Hope you continue to enjoy reading as I add to it!_


	5. Chapter 4 - A Bone to Pick

_A quick author's note - the original chapter 4 that I'd posted was blatantly rushed, and progressed the plot along a tad bit too fast, so here's a better version. If you read the original, the changes begin around where the end of the chapter was before... yeah, sorry again about that. Anyways, kudos to MetaAkira for calling out that obvious reference - the author of that story is a pretty great friend of mine, and her story inspired this one, so I'm glad that others are reading it! For anyone else, seriously, go give "There are No Days off in Terraria" a read!_

 **Chapter 4 - A Bone to Pick**

* * *

Waking up inside of a green-bricked room was quite the suprise to Lunette, if she were being honest. As far as she was concerned, Skeletron could hardly be trusted - the allowance into his lair could only mean he was plotting something just as horrid as them staying outside. _Asher was a bit too trusting for his own good_ , though at least he'd made sure the duo were alive, and for that she was grateful. As she rose, a small portion of mana was used to revive her attire - the crimson's influence was getting to be quite the literal thorn in Lunette's side. From here, her first order of business was to leave the magically suffocating confines of the Dungeon.

Strangely enough, her personal pouch of purification powder seemed much lighter than she usually kept it - making more wasn't much of a problem, as all Dryads knew the process, though she'd rather know just who was rooting through her belongings. Either way, the dryad held it close to her as she made to reach the surface. Her guide's handiwork was evident from first sight - everything he touched seemed to age five years backwards, and was notably dust-free. Skeletron wasn't to be seen in her path, a blessing that she wasn't sure how to feel about - she'd love to give that _stuck up fool_ a verbal, or preferably physical beatdown, though her footing was still a tad unbalanced.

Lunette could scarcely believe her eyes when she found the patch of unturned soil that surrounded her upon surfacing. The small bubble of paradise almost broke her composure, a little Pinky napping behind one of her immortal sunflowers bringing a soft, delighted "aww" from her lips. Fresh air seemed to circulate around the newly-founded dynasty walls, sweet ambrosia to the guardian of nature itself.

"Lunette," shouted a familiar voice, "You're finally awake!" Asher quickly darted into view, his arms fumbling awkwardly at his sides as if debating whether it was safe to offer a hug to the still-groggy dryad - a question she soundly answered for him when she wrapped her arms around the slightly shorter guide and nearly giggled in joy. He was hardly able to choke out a "Glad to see you too", though the meaning of her long-time friend's words wasn't lost on the dryad.

 **~{** **θ** **}~**

Skeletron had to give the knowledgable _sacrifice_ credit - his home looked almost as nice as it had during the first few centuries of his awareness when he'd been able to care enough to maintain the dungeon. He hadn't gone aboveground yet, though he could sense the small patch of purity in his front yard just as well. The dimunitive Pinky was a suprise, to be sure, though its purpose was clear to the ancient guard - one of the King Slimes had gained an interest in the cursed island.

 _Well then won't it be suprised to see the surrounding hellhole, then._ The dungeon's keeper laughed at that lovely thought before quickly sobering up to the more important matters - namely that his constructs were getting restless.

It was only natural, he supposed - most summoned beings only last a week at most, if lucky. The fact that most of his minions had lasted as long as they did was as much a testament to his power as to the fact that without heroes, his presence was ultimately without cause. Skeletron could just as easily abandon the area, possibly moving on to possess some other power-hungry disciple of the darker magics, though he'd have to admit - albeit begrudgingly - that this particular sanctum had grown on the old soul.

So Skeletron pondered how to deal with his problem as he slowly climbed the great staircase to above. He could easily - and very gleefully - start destroying his creations, though the return surge of his mana could be just as dangerous as running it low. He could attempt to expand the dungeon's reach, lay the bindings into stone... no, the Crimsoned ground gave little purchase as it was, opening a new hallway would be no better than letting the many beasts stampede through the front doors.

Ah well, the fresher air was calling to his host anyways - he'll have to leave that train of thought for later.

 **~{** **θ** **}~**

 _Meanwhile, in the Deeper Dungeons..._

The dark green gothic doors slammed open with an echoing bang, the bulky boot slamming back down to the ground as fast as it had lashed out. Through the open doorway spilled a cobalt shield-bearing skeleton, followed closely by a similar being wielding a tactical shotgun. They did a quick scan for any feral bones - angered pawns of Skeletron that had wandered too far into the darker recesses of their home - and satisfied with the lack of present creatures, the tactical skeleton took point through the corridor.

The two teammates - dubbed the "skele-bros" from how synced the duo seemed to act - had decided to take action when one of the paladins had been discovered as a pile of unholy ashes. Seeing that even the most loyal beings weren't safe from their overlord, a great many of the more sentient denizens of the dungeon had started to create a hasty rebellion _\- there was no hiding from the dungeon keeper in his own lair, after all._

Smashing open the dungeon slime that held the next door's bronzed key was an easy task, and as the remains oozed into the cracks of the floor, the duo found themselves heading down another among dozens of staircases. Not a single being seemed to be in this area, though the two skeletal soldiers preferred it that way - the less in their path, the better. With a practiced pace, the two found themselves at the final hallway, and the shield-bearer of the team took point into the room.

Barging inside as he did was, however, a bad idea if the armored fist that sent him flying into the tiled walls had been any indication. A matching hand grabbed the shotgun-toting skeleton and tossed him towards his companion, and the owner - a golden armored paladin - proceeded towards the intruders. Without any words, the gilded sentry unlatched its massive hammer from the latches on its back and slammed the mallet down onto the ground, almost taunting the duo as they rose from the floor.

Despite his gargantuan size, the paladin was first to charge into battle, swinging his warhammer down onto the armored skeleton. Said skeleton was only barely able to raise his shield in time to ward the blow, and as he was forced to his knees, the tactical brother-in-arms had blasted a few rounds into the golden guard. The paladin remained unflinching, however, and it reached down to its leg and flung a small, enchanted mallet at the tactical skeleton.

With his assailant's attention elsewhere, the armored skeleton shoved his cobalt shield against the massive warhammer, making enough space to back away from his would-be demise. In a fluid motion, the melee oriented of the duo spun to his opponent's side and slashed at its shoulder. The paladin lurched forwards, ever so slightly, before retaliating with an elbow to the skeleton's chest.

The paladin flung another enchanted mallet at the tactical skeleton before advancing on his ally, warhammer switching arms. The standing skeleton rolled under the projectile and prepared to fire, but the magical missile doubled over its path and struck the skeleton behind the head, sending the shotgun wielder to the floor once more. This distraction was all the gilded warrior needed to send its weapon into the shield for one final time, crushing the cobalt ward into large, sparkling shards. The skeleton's bare hands weren't nearly enough to stop the heavy boot from caving in his skull.

Rising again with a vengeful light in his eyes, the tactical skeleton started launching volley after volley of silver bullets into the paladin's body as the large armor turned towards its next victim. Another magical mallet was thrown, but this one was blasted out of the air with prejudice and the shotgunner charged at the paladin. The lethal warhammer was sidestepped with ease, and the shotgun's barrel was shoved into the living armor's helmet before another two shells were fired into it.

Raw internal magic sizzling in pain, the golden paladin kicked his assailant into a barred door and quickly closed the distance with a large hand gripping the skeleton's collar bone. The victim's thicker-covered skull was slammed into the heavy iron, and at once a small grenade found itself transferred from the skeleton's eye socket to his hand. With a cold, deathly stare, the tactical skeleton pulled the pin and grinned as realization dawned in the paladin.

The animated armor tried in vain to protect the door, placing its body in between the explosive and the guarded door, but with the inevitable explosion came the paladin, launched through the solid iron and onto a damp floor. As the magic that kept it in motion flowed back into the dungeon's stones, the gilded guard turned its helmet over to the sole prisoner, and watched as she looked up at the chaos.

And as the paladin died, she stepped around it and through the hole in the wall towards her long-awaited freedom.


End file.
